Trading Up
by Shellie Rae
Summary: The boys use a spell to trade a demon for a human soul from hell. Of course there's a catch, but how bad could it be?
1. Chapter 1

Return one human from hell. Just like everything nice Crowley ever came up with, it seemed too good to be true. It was also, to their frustration, too good for the Winchesters pass up.

Crowley handed over the spell with a smile and a flourish. A win-win, he had called it. He would get one of his minions back downstairs, while Dean and Sam could free a tortured soul. Repeat as desired.

The spell was straightforward enough. They found a quiet, abandoned parking lot and painted the symbols almost as large as a basketball court. Next, they caught themselves a demon. He was a little guy, dressed like a librarian, but a demon is a demon. They left the poor bastard chained in the center of their artwork while they performed the spell.

Of course they were not naive enough to think Crowley had been completely honest. They were armed to the teeth, figuratively of course, in preparation for whatever the catch turned out to be.

"Please, stop," the skinny man cried. He had pulled himself up to a kneeling position, his hands still shackled behind his back. He looked genuinely afraid as Sam continued reading. The boys were used to this reaction; they'd done their share of exorcisms. All three flinched when a bolt of lightning struck the ground at the edge of the parking lot.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. Dean nodded, and Sam read on. The possessed man blubbered and sobbed as another flash of electricity lit up the symbols on the ground around him. Sam spoke the last line of text from the stiff, yellowed page, and the brothers both braced themselves for whatever was about to go down.

Wind sped around them. Dean held up an arm to shield his eyes. Neither of them could see the man at the center any longer. One huge clap of thunder, and the brightest flare of lightning yet, then it all went still.

They rushed in to check on their test subject, not sure what sort of mess they would find. He was gone. Sort of. In his place was a woman. She wore a pastel yellow dress in an outdated style neither of them could place. Her head hung down, her light brown hair hiding most of her face. She was in the exact spot and position they had left the man; her hands were even shackled the same way. They slowed their approach, but her head jerked up at the sound of their feet. Her eyes were wide and unfocused. Dean stayed a few feet back, weapon readied behind him. Sam inched forward. He held out a cautious hand toward her. "Maam... are you alright? Can you understand me?" She stared at him, breathing hard, visibly trembling. Sam half-turned to his brother. "Uh, any ideas here?"

"Not really," Dean hissed back. "I guess she's in shock?"

While they spoke, the woman pulled her gaze from Sam to Dean. She stared at him, her expression blank for a moment, then something clicked in her memory. Her eyes went wider still.

Sam turned back just in time to notice this change. "Hey, it's okay. You're safe." By the way she turned to look at him, he was convinced she understood his words. He just couldn't tell if she was shaking her head in response, or just shaking. Before he could find out, her eyes rolled up, and her body went limp. He caught her just before her head hit the pavement.

* * *

Author Note: I've had this plot bunny pestering me for a long time. I'm not sure how long it will be yet. Please let me know what you think so far, and thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

They slung her in the back seat of the Impala and sped to the nearest motel. It was possible they had never been more grateful to find a seedy motel in the middle of nowhere; there were no curious looks as they carried her unconscious body from their car to the room.

While Dean locked the door and checked out the window, Sam placed the woman gently atop one of the beds, rolling her onto her side with her cuffs wrists behind her. "So, what now?" he wondered aloud.

Dean came to stand beside him. "Hell if I know." He crossed his arms, looking down at the woman. "Does this mean it worked? You tested her, right? She's not just some other demon?"

"She's human, far as I could tell. We can find out more once she's awake." He frowned. "Those clothes - who do you think she was?"

She was very obviously not from this decade. Her chin-length hair was styled in waves against her head. Her face was round, with soft features, and she wore bright red lipstick, which was now smudged from being hauled around. Her yellow dress buttoned down the front, and reached just past her knees. Her shoes, which had somehow not fallen off, were navy blue pumps tied with ribbons.

"We should let Cas in on this," Dean said. On seeing Sam's raised eyebrow, Dean hurried to explain. "He can make sure her soul is in there, like he did yours. Just to be sure."

"Is that a good idea? After what she's been through, it might be too much."

The woman on the bed stirred, and her eyes fluttered open. At first she lay very still, taking in her surroundings. Once she noticed them watching her, she moved quicker than they thought possible, even with her hands cuffed behind her. She scrambled back across the bed, trying to get as far away as possible. Her chest heaved as she pressed herself against the headboard, her feral eyes darting between the two of them.

"It's okay," Sam told her in a soft voice. "We're not going to hurt you." She held very still, watching him intently. "Do you understand me?" She didn't budge? "Can you talk?"

Dean elbowed him in the ribs, tipping his head at something on the table behind them. "You thirsty?" he asked her. "How about something to drink."

She definitely understood that. Dean turned to grab an empty glass as Sam slipped him the little flask of holy water. Her eyes followed him as he walked to the bathroom sink, filled the glass with tap water, and brought it to her.

Just before the glass reached her lips, he pulled it back an inch. "Who are you?" he asked, his voice quiet but firm.

Her whole body trembled. She wouldn't look up, and she opened and shut her mouth a few times before her voice finally came, scratchy and pained. "I am nothing."

Dean recoiled, his eyes growing wide. For a second, it almost seemed he was afraid of her. He recovered himself, and shoved the glass at Sam before retreating to the far end of the room.

The woman had flinched at Dean's reaction, but didn't move, even when Sam thrust the glass of water right under her nose. She gave him a wary glance before accepting. The boys each held their breath as she took a sip.

When she spluttered and choked, their expressions grew angry. Sam pulled back. "Wait," she gasped between coughs. The brothers exchanged a look. Cautiously, Sam brought the glass back to her mouth. She took another drink, and this one went down smoothly.

After chugging half the glass, she was gasping, trying to catch her breath. Sam put the glass down. "So, you can understand us?" He sat beside her and took her by the arm. "I'm going to take the cuffs off now." She kept perfectly still, even held her breath. "My name is Sam," he told her. "That's my brother, Dean. We can help you."

At the mention of Dean's name, her vision had locked onto him. She mindlessly rubbed her wrists as Sam released her. She said nothing.

He tried again. "This may be hard to understand, but you're back. You're not in hell any more."

She curled her legs up, wrapping her arms around her knees. "Stop," she whispered.

"Stop what?" Sam asked gently. She just closed her eyes and shook her head. "You're safe here."

He was not getting the desired reaction. She clapped her hands over her ears. "Stop it, stop it."

"No one is going to hurt you, I swear."

"Stop!" she screamed, her voice hysterical. Tears welled up in her eyes. Sam put his hands up, and backed away slowly and deliberately.

Dean join him by the window. "She thinks this is another game," he kept his voice low. The woman had her head down, and was rocking forward and back.

"Can't say I'm surprised. How do we convince her this is real?"

"I got through to you," Dean reminded him.

"But we're family. Everyone she knew is probably long dead. Plus we have no idea how long she was down there." He stood up straighter, his face growing solemn. "Maybe that's the catch, maybe she's…"

"Looney?" Dean offered.

Sam glanced over to see if she'd overheard, but there was no sign she was even on the same frequency. "If she's too far gone to even know where she is, then this whole thing was pointless." He let out a frustrated sigh. "Fine, call Cas."

Dean shuffled his feet awkwardly. He looked sideways at his brother before turning his face up to the ceiling. "Casl, uh… it's me, Dean. Sam's here. We've got kind of a situation. Could use your help, man. So…" He glanced around the room. "If you could get over here, that'd be great. The sooner, the better."

Their attention was torn back as the woman let out a terrified wail. Sam and Dean spun around to see that Castiel had joined them. The woman must have watched him appear in the room, because she was now huddled on the floor between the two motel beds.

"What is this?" Cas demanded. He studied the hysterical woman, looking almost offended at her presence.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Good to see you too, buddy."

"We were hoping you could help us with her," said Sam. Cas just frowned.

"She's fresh out of hell and chock full of crazy," Dead added.

Cas shot him a scowl before going over to kneel next to the woman. She whimpered as he lifted a hand toward her head. He paused. She shook her head frantically, trying to press herself back, further away from him. After a moment, he nodded, then stood up again. He turned to address Dean and Sam. "I could try to access her memories, but doing so against her will, on top of everything she's been put through, would cause severe psychological damage."

"That's great," Dean threw his hands up in frustration.

Sam still looked determined. "Can you give us anything? We don't even know her name!"

With a pointed glare, Cas walked to the far end of the room, and they followed. "Her name is Edith Nolan, born in 1905. She died at the age of thirty-one. Now tell me, why is she here?"

Sam looked at his brother before answering. "We found a way to swap a demon for a human soul." He gestured back at the woman. "That's what came out."

"Exactly what were you hoping I could do?"

Now Dean shrugged. "Make sure she's in one piece."

Cas gave a look of disdain. "Not in her condition, no. Once she's had time to sufficiently recover, then maybe I will examine her soul.

Dean made a face. "What are we supposed to do with her until then?"

"Take her somewhere quiet," Cas said, completely serious. "The bunker, perhaps. You have no idea…" He shook his head. "I would advise you not to get your hopes up." With a faint sound of wings, he was gone.

"Screw that," Dean growled. He marched toward the woman. "Get up."

The woman hurried to obey. Sam had started to rush after to Dean to stop him, but he stopped cold. She pulled herself up to her feet quicker than they had seen her move before.

Dean stood nearly toe-to-toe with her. "No more tricks. No games, no lies. Is that what you want?" She didn't move, but the shaking got worse. "Answer me," he said. His voice was quiet, his tone was anything but soothing.

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes, sir." Her whole body was trembling.

He looked her over. "Stand up straight," he chided.

She drew her small form a little higher, lifting her chin, but keeping her eyes downcast. Her fingers clenched at her sides. Dean took half a step back, raised his arm, and slapped her right across the face.

Sam rushed forward in horror. "What the hell, Dean!"

"Wait," he said, motioning Sam to stay back.

The impact had spun her halfway around, but she had caught herself against the bed. One hand was lifted to her cheek, a look of disbelief on her face. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly.

Sam grabbed his brother by the arm. "What were you thinking?"

They both stared as she opened her eyes. Something was different. She peered around the room as if she were noticing it for the first time. Then her gaze landed on the window. Apparently forgetting about Dean, she rushed past him and pulled back the curtain. It was not quite dawn, but the streetlights outside would allow her to see a good bit. Her eyes were wide when she finally turned back around. "This is real?" she asked softly. "I'm out?"

Sam approached her. "You're really out." Worried she might faint again, he put his hand under her elbow for support.

She looked up at him, actually seeing him this time, the wild terror gone from her face. "What year is it?"

He looked at Dean, not sure if he should tell her the truth. He led her to the bed and waited for her to sit before answering. "It's 2013." Her mouth opened and her shoulders heaved as she took a ragged breath. "Long time?" Sam asked gently.

Tears began to trail down her face. "It felt like… much longer."

Dean huffed. "Tell me about it," he said sarcastically. Sam shot him a look.

He crouched down in front of her and tried to explain. "Time passes quicker where you were. One month on Earth is about ten years in hell."

They watched her eyes flick around as she tried to do the math in her head. She nodded. "That sounds more like it."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Sam ventured. Her only response was a shake of her head.


End file.
